


You Promise?

by RavenDeliahJones



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Childhood, Mental Health Issues, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenDeliahJones/pseuds/RavenDeliahJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the life of Timothy Wright, from early childhood up until leaving highschool, and how Brian and the others fit into the mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

It was a late night, cold, as expected in the peak of winter. At a time like this, so obscured in darkness, you would presume everyone, parent and child alike to be tucked up in warm houses, watching movies or doing other family-like things...

"Mom, where are we going? It's Christmas eve! We can't go out! You forgot the presents! Santa's meant to give them soon!" A small voice piped up. The source of the voice was a boy, no more than six years old, staring up at his beloved mother with curious eyes. The boy's mother looked down at the child, considering to go back inside and fetch him a coat and gloves, for it was too cold to be without. Cutting off her thoughts, she shook her head slightly, her lips in a thin line. The woman quickly ushered her child into a car, buckling him up without an answer. She tried her best not to make eye contact, for the fear she may break down in tears if she did. He's so innocent, she thought, too innocent to be in this position. Sliding into the drivers seat, she reversed onto the icy road and set off.

Streetlights shone in through the back window, illuminating the boy's face and tired, dark eyes. He shivered slightly, and tried asking again. No answer. Maybe, he wondered, maybe it's a surprise. It is Christmas eve after all. The vehicle took a sharp right turn, making his stomach lurch. Before he knew it, they were driving on a narrow path in the middle of a forest. Weird... The bumps in the worn, uneven track made him feel sick; or maybe it was just the suspense of it all. Where are we? The car halted in front of an average sized building, but of course, to a child, it looked like a mansion. His mother stepped out and as if by magic (Or perhaps coincidence) the lights inside turned on. The small boy's mouth was shaped perfectly into an 'O' - he always thought his mom was magic, but this just had to prove it. "Mom!" He exclaimed, rushing to unbuckle his seat belt and jump out of the seat into the open area, "Where are we?!" The double doors opened, and a man stepped out, a file in hand. He simply nodded at the mother and stood quiet. For the first time in today, the woman spoke, her voice hoarse and dry.

"You're going to stay here. Just for a few weeks, okay, sweetheart? The nice man will hep you to get better." The boy's face dropped. The look of excitement replaced with one of fear and betrayal. Suddenly, the boy seemed even smaller, standing under the gaze of his mother and the man behind him.

"But mom! It's Christmas! I don't wanna stay! You can't leave me here! You can't!" He asserted, bawling his fists and throwing them down at his sides in an aggressive manner, one much different from before. The woman's face crumpled as she crouched down to eye level of her son, cupping his cheek and stroking his hair, her sad eyes staring into his pained ones.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. It's only for a few weeks, I promise. You'll be home before you know it." And with that, the man with the file stepped in, a stern look on his face.

"I'll take it from here, ma'am. I assure you, your son is in safe hands with me and the other staff." He laid a hand on the child's shoulder, a soft but firm grip. "Say goodbye to your mother, son." His voice was clear of any emotion, not that he'd know what they were going through. He had seen this a thousand times before, and for him, it was just another day at the office. The boy's face began to redden as he screamed angrily at his mother, tears spurting down his face as he was gently pulled away. He yelled about how bad a mom she was, and that he'll never forgive her. She knew those words were going to haunt her. As her child was taken into the building, she took a deep breath, her gaze locked firmly on the entrance as if to think he would come running out, and she would change her mind about abandoning her son. She took a step backwards. And another. Slowly, ever so slowly, with every single step she took, she began to regret it more and more. And as her hand found the car door, she paused, once again looking to the place she knew her son would call a prison.

"Goodbye, Timothy..."


	2. Chapter Two

"What's up with that kid? It's pourin' a rain out there!" A new staff member asked, pointing out of the window to a young boy who was soaked to the bone and staring off into space, a blank look masking his expression. The older male who had been asked just sneered, folding his arms and lighting a cigarette. The staff were forbidden to smoke on hospital grounds, but as long as they were sure to avoid most of their colleagues, they could be sure no one would tell.

"We tell 'im that every Saturday 'is momma's gonna pick 'im up. Every Saturday he goes 'n stands out by the gate, thinkin' she's comin'." The woman frowned, her eyes showing hatred towards the man as she thought him to be a cruel person. Who could lie to a child like that? Especially about his own mother...

"That can't be good for him." She stated, as if hinting him to stop. Those type of lies, she said to herself, they destroy a person, they make it so that the person finds it hard to trust. And when they don't trust, she continued, they don't ask for help. They're alone within themselves.

"Nonsense." The man assured with a wave of his hand, sending a clump of ash fluttering into the air. "Let the kid 'ope... He'll need it in this place." With that, the woman softened slightly, at finally noticing his true intentions. However, her mind still deemed it wrong. It seemed he was trying to preserve some of the child's hope, while tearing it down at the same time. She sighed lightly and shook her head, unable to choose a side. She knew she would have to trust him, for she was to be working with him. Her gaze returned to the child.

He was the only one out there. The others (which were quite few) were inside so they wouldn't catch a cold or sickness. It wasn't that the boy didn't have the sense - No, he was just so determined to continue waiting on his mother, for the fear that if he goes inside, he will miss her if she arrives. He was so dependent on the statement, the lie that it was the only thing that he felt he could believe, without being told otherwise. Yet, there was some part of him, a tiny voice at the back of his head that knew different. It had already been 'A few weeks', and she hadn't come to collect or even visit him. That small part of him regarded that this place was his home now, that he would stay here until he grew up, but he couldn't imagine himself ever leaving.

So there he stood, clothes soaked through and clinging onto his body, hair sticking to his forehead and a hopeful look on his face, his hand reaching out past the gate. His tiny fingers were straight and had no movement. Perhaps he had lost feeling in them, or maybe was clinging desperately onto the spec of hope that he wouldn't be alone forever. His dark eyes were firmly locked onto the forest beyond the walls. It was the freedom that mocked him. It was the comfort that soothed him. It was the terror that kept him locked away.

It was the lies... That kept him awake at night...


	3. Chapter Three

Another week. Another week of lost hope. Saturday, the worst day of the week. His hands held a firm grip on the metal bars, his face pressed into the gap. Mentally, he had given up a long time ago, but it was now his routine. A short sigh escaped the boy's lips. That was it. No hope, he knew he was staying here. He had finally accepted it. Trudging back through the overgrown blades of grass, he walked around to the back of the building and sat on the dirt... Alone. As usual.

An old, worn car pulled up on the trail, a smart looking woman in her late twenties stepping out. It was hard to believe such a woman would be drawn to this place, for whatever reason. She stepped up to the gate and unlatched it, drawing the attention of both patients and staff alike. When she spoke her voice was firm, but polite,

"Hello, I am here to see Timothy Wright." The receptionist looked up, typing something on his computer.

"Humm... I think he is outside." The woman frowned,

"I didn't see him playing with the other children." The receptionist smiled, then quickly corrected himself.

"Oh, he doesn't ma'am. I'm surprised he isn't waiting by the gate. He usually does..." And with that she retraced her steps, finding the cool breeze on her ankles to be refreshing in the warm summer heat.

"Timothy?" She sang, her eyes scanning the yard, no traces of him to be found. Out of the corner of her vision, a small figure stood away in the corner, face shadowed. The child frowned, his posture changing instantly, he hunched his shoulders forward and stepped back, walking to the place he had sat just moments ago, leaving the woman to follow. Once she had reached the area, her eyes began to ache. This place was much darker than the front and had almost a creepy atmosphere. She simply stared at the boy in front of he looked worse. Much worse. He was paler than usual, and had extremely noticeable dark circles under his eyes. It seemed his 'Condition' had worsened. "Hello, sweetheart..." She said softly, crouching down and opening her arms for a hug.

"You left me here." He said in a cold, almost emotionless tone. "You left me. You said you'd be back, but you didn't come..." A look of shock masked her face. "I WAITED FOR YOU BUT YOU DIDN'T COME! WHY DIDN'T YOU COME?! YOU DON'T LOVE ME BECAUSE OF HIM! IT'S HIS FAULT!" She struggled to find the words to sooth his anger, but only managed to choke out an excuse.

"Sweetheart, of course I love you! I just-" She never got to finish.

"YOU MISSED MY BIRTHDAY! I WAITED! YOU NEVER CAME! I WAITED THE DAY AFTER THAT, AND THE DAY AFTER THAT BUT YOU NEVER CAME! EVERYONE SAID YOU'D COME! DOCTOR RICHARDS SAID YOU'D COME BUT YOU DIDN'T! HE'S A LIAR!" The woman was utterly aghast by the child's outburst. She was about to try to console him, when he began to sway and, if it were possible, get even paler. She barely had a second to react, before he fell forwards and hit the floor. Well, he would of, if she hadn't of been there to catch him. It was true that she missed his birthday. She did say she'd show up. She never came. And for once, she swore he would get out by the time of the next holiday, no matter how bad his condition was.


	4. Chapter Four

With a flutter of wet eyelashes, the small boy awoke from his prolonged slumber, rubbing his eyes with his small fists and sitting up. A wave of panic washed over him as he realized that this was not the place he has fell asleep (or rather passed out). No, he was in a car. He shot up, noticing his mother in the front seat, the sudden movement causing her eyes to swivel up to the rear view mirror.

"Am I going home?!" The small child asked excitedly, quite eager to return to the small flat that he barely remembered. The child did not notice at that time, but his mothers' eyes were red and puffy, her eye makeup smudged.

"No, dear." The boy slumped down, sniffling slightly as he put on his belt, recalling that his mother always told him to be safe and responsible.

"Where are we going?" He questioned softly, gripping onto a small blanket that had been covering him moments before.

"We're going to the park, sweetheart. Sit tight until we get there okay?" He nodded nervously, resting his head against the window. It was a beautiful day, the sun shone warmly, creating golden beams through the many trees as a slight breeze rustled the leaves. The sky was perfectly blue, many white fluffy clouds floating gently across in wisps. 'That one looks like a sheep.' The child thought innocently, peering up with a small smile on his face, delight in his eyes. Unlike most children, (for he had no desire to be alike with anyone else) he quite enjoyed long car rides, staring up at the sky while the air con blew softly around his fragile body. For him it was the journey rather than the destination.

 

Bright light. Open fields. The laughter and joy of families. This place was full of foreign sensations and Tim was cautious about it. A dog and its' owner strolled past, the animal calm and controlled. But as it passed the young boy, it snarled, baring sharp teeth in hostility. Several apologies and glares from mum sorted it out, with confusion to the owner. The dog had never lashed out and was very friendly towards kids. 'But everything messes up when I'm around.' Tim thinks gloomily. Tears sting the back of his eyes as he sits on a bench, a heaviness weighing down his heart.

"Mom?" He sniffles, staring up at his only parent who was talking to a stranger. 'I hope he's not another bad man...' 

"Yes my darling?" Concerned eyes stare into his.

"C-Can I go back now?" She lets out a sigh of sympathy, and he can see the mans' condolences towards him.

"Honey, I know this is all new and scary for you, but just go and make some friends! There's lots of little boys and girls here your age." She kneels to his height and hugs him close. "You're a very brave boy, Timothy. Mommy knows you can do this." After his mother stood back up, Tim sat back down on the bench behind her, not keen to follow through on his mothers idea of making friends. 'Why do I need friends? It's just me and mom. She's always said that! Just me and her against the world.' Tim stared down at the cracked concrete. It was bland. Actually, it quite reminded him of the hospital. Boring. Suddenly, a sharp pain runs through his head, his vision going blurry for a few seconds. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a yellow blur. Once the surprise subsides, he stands and, still slightly dazed, picks up a frisbee.

"Sorry!" A voice exclaims. Tim turns around with the toy in his hands. The voice belonged to a small boy with sandy brown hair, who was running over to meet Tim. "Are you okay?!" Tim held out the toy, completely emotionless.

"Here you go." The other boy simply frowns,

"Are you okay?" He pressed, "I didn't mean it." 

"I'm fine." The pain was but a dull throbbing now, and the boy took his plaything back.

"Do you wanna go play?" Tim looks up, confused at the sudden kindness.

"I...I don't...-"

"C'mon! I have other toys, not just the frisbee!" The dark haired boy looked up to his mother, tugging on her skirt.

"Mom, can I go play?" She beams down at him, white smile full of happiness. 

"Of course, dear. Stay in my sight, now!" The new boy grabs Tims' hand, leading him over to a big oak tree slightly west of the entrance.

"Wanna draw?" The boy asks, pointing down at an assortment of brightly coloured crayons and some paper. The two sit down, grabbing their favourite colour and scribbling away.

 

"Who's that?" The new boy asks curiously, staring down at Tim's drawing. Rough lines in black wax, stick like appendages and a smart suit and tie. There was no helping the dark haired boy's spacing out. The times where he wasn't quite in his body - Or just in control of his mind.

"It's the man that follows me. I see him sometimes at night and I have to take special stuff to keep him away... My mom says he's not real, but I can see him! I really can!" His mind flashed back to all the times his mother told him never to mention the doctors to anyone, because it is something that shouldn't be told.

"I believe you. I had an imaginary friend, but my mom made him move out into a special house... Is he a nice friend?"

"Sometimes I get scared, and weird things happen... It hurts a lot, my mom gets scared too, but the doctors say it's my condition." 'Uh oh. Mom's not going to be happy... I did it again.' The sandy haired boy stood up.

"WHOEVER WANTS TO HURT MY FRIEND, THEY'LL HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME FIRST!" All eyes landed on the pair, and Timothy felt his face go red.

"Why did you-"

"Because that man sounds mean, I don't like people who hurt my friends."

"I-I'm your friend?" The other boy laughs, smiling happily.

"Yup! Oh wait... I don't know your name yet... I'm Brian!"

"...Tim..."

"Well Tim, you're my friend, and I'm yours!" He stops, looking serious for a second, "Hey, will you come here again?"

"Only if it's nice. I'm not allowed if it's not." Brian smiled cheerfully at Tim.

"I'll try and come here on every nice day! We'll meet here, under this tree, okay?" Tim nodded, for the first time since he saw his mother, he grinned, the warm feeling of happiness melting away all of the icy cold sadness inside him.

"Oka-"

"Tim! Time to go!"

"Oh... Bye, Brian." He said, frowning as he walked towards his mother, and the car to send him back to suffering. 

"Come on my dear, back to the hospital we go!" She said, buckling him up and getting into the drivers seat. As the engine fired up, and the vehicle was set in motion, the young boy was filled with sorrow, for he knew he wasn't coming home. Not now, not ever.


	5. Chapter Five

The young blond haired boy pulled on his favourite shirt, pants and socks. As he made his way down the stairs, glancing at photos on the walls of happy memories, he recalled them in his head. Into the hall, turn the corner, through to the kitchen, it was all too familiar, after all, he had lived here all his life. He sat at the table, where orange juice and eggs were laid out neatly,

"G'morning. Sleep well?" He nods to the woman by the stove, eating his breakfast, like usual.

 

Music starts, and his everyday morning cartoons play. 'Just another boring day...' He thinks to himself. Suddenly, a knock at the door, and the sounds of shuffling pry him from his thoughts. "Brian, could you come here for a minute darlin?" He sighs and lifts himself from the floor, shuffling through into the hallway to see his mother. "There's someone I'd like you to say 'hi ' to." A woman with light brown hair and soft blue eyes like the sky stands just outside, wearing a friendly smile. "Brian, this is miss Wright, she's our new neighbour." The boy frowns, and his mother crouches down to his level, resting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"She doesn't have kids..." The mother's face stiffens slightly, opening her mouth to lecture him on how rude it was to say that, when Miss Wright puts a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"But I do have a son. I'll go get him." Brian's mother stands back up,

"Oh, you don't have to wake him!"

She's already walking down the neatly paved path lined with flowers, not a weed in sight. "No it's fine. It's time for him to wake up now anyway." And just like that, she disappears through the gate and into the once vacant house next door. Brian begins to pace the hall, waiting. He'd never seen that house used before in all his time of living in this neighbourhood. So, naturally, the van outside and plentiful mountain of boxes seem foreign to him. Another, more timid sound at the entrance draws him forward. He reaches on unbalanced tip-toes to the handle, and pulls back the mighty door. There stood the woman with a smile of a summer's day, the type of smile that gave you the feeling of warmth and security, like a hug from pure sunshine. A small glimpse of black and blue behind her catches his eye, and he tilts his head to see more. The figure moves as to be shielded by his mother, earning a small giggle. "He's shy." She cooes, "Come on out sweetheart." Her gentle but guiding voice spilled from her lips as she gestured cheerfully towards her boy. The child slowly peeks his head out and Brian is suddenly filled with delight. It was Tim! His old friend from the park! Brian gasps, 

"Come play with me!" He grabs the darker haired boy's arm, however, a firm hand on his shoulder prevents him from moving.

"You should ask first to make sure it's okay." He pouts slightly, looking up towards miss Wright with his best pleading face.

"It's fine as long as it's alright with you!" Miss Wright laughs, "I need to finish unpacking anyway." Brian cheers, and pulls his friend up to his room.

"You remember me, right?!" Tim stays silent then nods. Tim looks out of the window. "I can see my room..." Brian looks too, seeing a plain yellow bedroom with boxes and bags scattered around. Brian giggled quietly to himself. 

"Yellow is a girls colour!"

"I like it..." Tim mumbles quietly, looking down and the ground and fiddling with his fingers.

"That's okay then." A silence fills the room, and Brian looks at Tim, waiting for a reply. When he got none, he cocked his head. "You don't speak much, do you?" To this, Tim simply shrugged. He was asked that a lot by the doctors, except they didn't really care. "I don't mind. You're still my friend, and that's all that matters!"


	6. Chapter Six

A sound of uncertainty escapes his lips, and just like that, he's not as confident as he was before. He tugs on the other boys' sleeve.

"I'm not sure about this anymore... Let's just go..." The sandy blond haired boy shook his head, a small smile gracing his face. He knew his friend was nervous, but he had to help in some way.

"C'mon, Tim. If you don't do this now you'll keep not wanting to do it. Trust me, okay?" His caramel eyes locked with the shaking boy's darker ones.

"...You promise?" He asked, sounding almost vulnerable. 

"I promise." Brian said, sounding serious for a split second before his playful grin returned. "Now, let's do this before you chicken out again." 

Tim smiled weakly as the door opened, all eyes landing on the pair. He gulped, sweat beading on his forehead as his eyes frantically darted to and fro, assessing the situation with laboured breathing. After the initial silence, the man at the front of the room cleared his throat. 

"Hello there, Brian." He flicked his hand to the side in a small wave, "I see this is the boy you were talking about." Tim was ushered to the front of the classroom by the man with the glasses. "Would you like to introduce yourself?" The glasses man leaned on his desk, firm stare reaching the depths of the child's soul, sending cold sparks throughout his body. This was a new level of uncomfortableness, and Tim was not okay with it. Just like that he was choking on his words, and his trembles became uncontrollable. Brian, seeing what was going on, quickly stepped in front of his friend. 

"This is Tim! He's my friend, he's lived beside me for quite a while now, and he's kinda shy..." Of course, after that, everyone began to smile and greet the new kid. Yeah, Brian had that natural charm, even if he was only eleven. He just had that friendly face and kind words, everyone seemed to like him. No-one could resist such a kind and outgoing lad as him... Tim on the other hand... Well, he was quite the opposite. Not the type of boy you'd expect Brian to be friends with, but that didn't stop him. Oh no, the pair were practically inseparable once they were together.

"Well, you can sit at that spare desk over there, Timothy." He inwardly cringed at that. He hated being called Timothy, not only that, but the desk he was put at was right at the back! Brian's was at the front. As he dragged his feet over to the table, he recalled the morning, and how he knew he was going to hate every second of this.

 

"Can't we wait a week longer?!" He whined.

"You said that last week, sweetheart." His mother straightened the collar of his polo shirt as Brian sat on one of the sofas, dangling his legs back and forth, waiting to set off.

"Please mum, I really don't want to!" The woman sighed, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Timothy," There it was, the second he heard his full name, he knew he was in for a lecture. "Oh, Lord..." Miss Wright looked at the clock that hung at an angle on the wall. "You're going to have to go today. I need to go to work and I can't keep you off for any longer or I'll be fined. That's money I don't have and I really need to leave. It'll be alright, you have Brian here to keep you company..." She stood up, adjusting her hair and making sure her blouse wasn't crumpled. "Now, off you go. Have a good day and don't be late." Tim was pushed out the door, the blond following eagerly. He caught up just as his friend hung his head and slung his bag over his shoulder, gripping the strap for dear life.

"Why don't you want to go to school anyways?" He asked. Tim stiffened, almost stopping his sluggish movement altogether. "You can tell me!" The darker haired boy sighed.

"...I've never been to school before..." He mumbled, "I was always home schooled or taught by the nurses." A small 'oh' came from the blond, 

"Well..." He paused, looking both ways before dragging his companion across the road. "Doesn't mean you won't enjoy it! There's lots of people that i'd like you to meet." The brunette groaned.

"Brian, don't you get it?! That's the thing! I don't like other people! I don't want to get to know anyone and I don't want to go to this school!" 

He began to run. He moved as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't know where he was going but he didn't care. Anything to get him away from the horrible fate that awaited him. He found himself running past branches, pushing leaves away from his face and being attacked by nettles that seemed to leap at him as he continued down a rabbit trail. As he caught his breath, he looked around.

He was lost.

And so he crouched by a fallen tree, brought his knees as close to his chest as he could and began to cower. Tears streamed down his cheeks and landed on his now muddy school pants, he shook his head in denial.

Somehow.

Somehow he managed to find himself back in that very forest. The same forest where most of his childhood was spent. He shook his head. "No... No. No. No." Clamping his hands over his ears he rocked back and forth, breathing hitched, eyes red and puffy. The static invaded every inch of his mind, taking him over piece by piece. Soon, he was coughing, coughing so much he fell onto his stomach. His eyes scanned the ocean of plants, finding nothing, nothing but nature. Where had he dropped his bag? He was so caught up on running he probably left it on the street. He needed his bag with him at all times...

It was just like usual, that smell, the bright flashes before his eyes, the numbness that seemed to swallow him whole. He couldn't touch his fingers together, or even move at all. He probably would've fallen if he wasn't already on the floor. He was losing consciousness fast, he could feel the tremors, his breathing was out of control at this point. He could feel something, probably pain, however he couldn't locate it. Just as his vision faded, he felt something watching him... Observing.

And that's when Brian found him. He was mumbling incoherently. Although he could make out parts, none of it was making any sense.

"No.... No..." All he could do was make sure himself or Tim would get hurt. It was painful to watch him convulse and writhe like that, but there was nothing he could do. He'd have to wait until the worst was over until he patched up the claw marks on his arms. Then he remember what Miss Wright had told him, his hands shot out, quickly but carefully undoing the button on Tim's shirt to help him breathe. "Stop! Leave me alone!" As the seizure began to become less extreme, Brian gently rolled his friend onto his side, rubbing his back and comforting him.

"It's okay, Tim. Everything's alright." 

The brunette slowly started to regain his senses, eyes slowly traveling towards his only friend. "Heya, buddy. I got you. It's okay."

Brian spent the next few minutes giving his wounds treatment, and helping wash the blood from his mouth from biting his tongue. Tim seemed dazed, but then again, he could never remember anything after those episodes. 

"Brian?" He croaked, falling as he tried to stand.

"Woah, woah woah!" Brian exclaimed, catching him and setting him down. "Should I call your mom?"

"No." Tim coughed feebly, "If she finds out I ran off again I'll be done for. Just help me walk to school." Brain looked nervous,

"You sure, cause I can-"

"Just... Help me."

Once they reached the building, Brian quickly maneuvered them to the boys bathrooms, wetting a paper towel and beginning to wipe the mud from his clothes. "Brian?" Tim asked uncertainly, making the other look up.

"Thanks, Brian... I'm glad you're my friend."


	7. Chapter Seven

"You wanna come over mine for a bit?" Brian asks, Tim shakes his head, frowning.

"Sorry, Brian. I've got to get this homework done." Brian rolls his caramel eyes, grinning.

"Aw, c'mon Tim! You're ditching me for math?" Tim sighs, hitching his bag back onto his shoulder,

"Sorry... I'll see you tomorrow."

Their SATS were fast approaching, it was no use denying it. And with Tim being too quiet to put up his hand in class, his grades were leaning heavily on the take-home sheets they got every night to revise over. Tim opened the gate, feeling his bag hit against his back and he made his way up the path. His hand was seconds away from touching the handle, however, to his surprise, the door swung back and smashed against the wall, a very furious and drunken man storming out, pushing viciously past the boy, leaving him dazed.

Just as quick as the man had appeared, he was gone.

Tim rushed inside. Everything was quiet. Perfectly silent. But wait, he heard something peculiar. His eyes frantically searched the kitchen, nothing. He sprinted to the living room, more than worried at this point. His eyes widened, and he was too shocked to speak. His breath hitched and she caught his gaze.

"...Tim..."  
What the young boy saw made him nauseous, and he couldn't quite comprehend it, he couldn't understand why it had happened to his sweet and caring mother. He was too young to fully know what was happening, but similar things had occurred several times before, so he was not a stranger to it. He dumped his rucksack, and ran to the woman, who was desperately trying to hold her shirt closed, a few buttons that had been ripped off around her. She wiped her eyes frantically, attempting to make herself look at least somewhat presentable. As if blood wasn't dripping down her face and her arms and stomach weren't covered in bruises; as if her blouse that was usually so proper wasn't torn and stained red. Some of her hair hung over her face, sticking to her forehead as she shook, flinching away unknowingly at her sons touch. Hurriedly, Tim tried to help her up, watching her stumble a few times as he helped her to the cramped bathroom, turning on the hot water faucets of the sink and bath. He helps her sit on the lid of the toilet, dipping a washcloth into the water and helping her mop up her face, behind the crusty nose and watered down makeup that stained her, was puffy red eyes, and an expression that not a person could describe. Broken.  
"...James..." She choked out. "I need James. Tell him to come back, Tim! I need him!" The boys' face straightened from sympathetic to something not so pleasant.   
"No, mom." The woman tried, again and again, in shock of what had taken place.  
"Please, Timothy! I need James! I need him! Tell him to come back, it was my fault and I need him. I need him." She spluttered. The dark haired child turned off the running water, and shook his head firmly.  
"He hurt you. Mom, if you keep doing this it'll get worse! He's a bad person... You don't need him." She wiped her eyes again, a futile effort to stem the flow of bitter tears. At this point she had rid herself of the fabric that once covered her, now ruined and bloody. She took a deep, shaky breath, and smiled despondently,  
"... I love you, my boy. You're right. He's no good for me. From now on, it's you and me against the world."   
The boy grimaced, having heard the phrase one too many times, but this time, he was certain she meant it.  
"...No more bad men?" She nodded, and he couldn't help but let a smile grace his features.  
"Here." He spoke soothingly, helping her into the bath he had at just the right temperature, with lavender oil added to ease her aching muscles. He exited the room, closing the door quietly. Letting out a soft sigh, he soundlessly ghosted into the kitchen and boiled the kettle, setting out a mug and heading upstairs to fetch a fresh pair of pyjamas for his mother. By the time he had returned down, and finished making a steaming cup of tea, his parent had returned to her usual cheerful self. She was wrapped in nothing but a towel, and walked into the living room with the cup and in her hands. Tim instantly noticed the dark swelling and bruising that surrounded her nose and eye, and spoke up. "You should go to the hospital." She smiled fondly at him,  
"Nonsense, darling. I'm fine." He huffed.  
"Mum, your nose is crooked, and it's red. You should go." The mug was put down promptly, and a serious look covered her face.  
"And what would I tell them, Timothy? That I walked into a lamppost? They would know, and they would find James. I don't want him to be arrested." In an almost unsettling instant, her mood returned to normal. 'He deserves to be in prison' The child thought sourly. Familiar clothes caught his mother's' eye, and she shook her head. "A nice thought dear, but I'm going to work soon, so I won't be needing them." The boy jumped from his seat on one of the boxes.  
"Mom! No! What will they say if you turn up like that!?" She giggled,   
"Oh, silly boy. I won't. Trust me I know what I'm doing." That made him feel ill. Weakly, he watched her leave the room, and sat for a while, letting the silence surround him. His mother shouldn't have to know how to hide bruises and marks like she does. She shouldn't have to work a hard job and live in a run down house with hardly any furniture. She shouldn't have to deal with men who treat her as bad as they do. 'And she shouldn't have to deal with a son was with problems like me...' For a moment, his eyes brimmed with tears, but he blinked them away as quick as they had arrived. The sharp clicking of heels down the old wooden boards of the hall pried him from his thoughts, and he saw his mother, her face as clean and perfect as if she wasn't concealing something awful. 'That's the only reason she wears makeup.' Her hair was tucked neatly into a bun at the back of her head, and she had found a new blouse to cover herself with, folded neatly into her skirt.   
"Well, my dear, I'll see you tonight." She hummed, kissing him and turning away, hand reaching for her purse, she headed for the front door. "Don't stay up late. Oh, and I'm sorry I never got the chance to cook you anything, sweetie." As soon as the lock clicked, the boy wiped his cheek from the red lipstick, and picked up the bag he left discarded on the floor. He headed through the house, turning lights off as he went, but as he reached the stairs, he sprinted, scared of what the monsters would do to him if he lingered too long. He slammed his door and gasped for breath, setting himself down at his desk with his homework, he began to fill in the answers. While he did this, his mind began to wander. It travelled to how Brian, even though he never was busy, would ask him for the answers tomorrow, having spent all his time on a game. He thought what it would be like to own something as awesome as that, and how expensive they were, he thought he'd like to have one of his own, but did not want to make his mum work any harder than she was already, so put it to the back of his head, and decided to concentrate. Upon looking down at the page, he realised he had began to scribble the all too familiar thing. The circle with the cross through it...  
He almost wanted the thing to appear, just to help him stop thinking about his mum... And he was a very unfortunate boy, the static began to invade his mind, a feeling that felt like a thousand spiders crawling through every inch of his thoughts of that day, he began to shudder with the sensation.  
"N-no... You can't... Not now." He stuttered, talking to the air. Dark rings surrounded his vision, and he began to see something horrific. Well, perhaps to other people. He was used to it.

The figure. The one that was too skinny to be human. So disfigured and towering, that it hunched over just to appear in the room. The skin was whiter than chalk, and the hands, the fingers, were bony and elongated. The monster's arms stretched beyond that of proportion oh anything normal. There were no eyes, no facial features, just a void. The longer he stared, the more the creature would distort, until it was too horrendous to glance at. "I to... Told you. I don't want to play with you anymore! Stop hurting my mom! LEAVE ME ALONE!" He yelled to the empty room. He screamed until his throat was numb and still he kept on going. Until he blacked out, and awoke hours later in a place where the cold was needle sharp on his skin and his clothes were damp.

The trees always reminded him of that thing.


	8. Chapter Eight

Time flew Tim and Brian began to spend more time together, often wasting nights in Brian's room, playing games and being normal boys. Tim began to grow close to his mother and he realised - This was what he always wanted. No more bad men, just him and her. As the months went past in a flurry of greens and blues, to oranges and greys, their many tests had long since finished, and the end of grade school was approaching. Tim, of course, finished at the top of the class, and received a mountain of praise from the teachers and his mother. But he was apprehensive. He was fearful of people his age, never mind the much older people he would experience in high school.

Brian laughed as he waved a hand in front of his friends' face, snapping him out of his thoughts. His buddy was always a thinker, sitting with hands clasped in his lap and an unheard speech on his brain, carelessly repeating the same monologue in a slightly new pitch, throwing in a few current worries for good measure.   
"You good?" He teased, watching the other boys' curt nod. He instantly sat next to the dark haired kid and began to swing his legs, filled with energy and childish mischief. "Are you busy tonight? My mom is making her special recipe and she asked if you'd like to spend some time." Tim shrugged wordlessly, taking in a small breath and staring down at the floor.   
"I think I'm going out with my mum today." He smiled to himself, thinking of all the fun he'd have with her. He hadn't seen her much recently so he was really looking forward to it.  
"That's good." Brian stated, knowing his friend did not know any other family. He could never imagine being without his mother, or never knowing his father. He may not see his dad often, but he still couldn't think of it. Brian hopped down from the bench, fixing his hair, "I'm gonna go. Have fun, Tim!"

A few short minutes dragged by, and the young boy was outside his house, sliding his bag from his shoulder and heaving forward the weighty oak door. The house was quiet, and oddly calm, a smile graced his features. Finally, a chance to be a normal boy, at least for an hour or so. Tim wasn't sociable, but he was positively sure that most normal boys didn't go days upon days without seeing their mother and having to take care of themselves. Watching her relax for a time would be nice...

Frantically, the sound of heels echoed through the dark spaces overcrowded by white sheets, and Tim crumpled.   
"Oh, there you are! I'm so terribly sorry darling but I have to go to work." She was late, and he could tell by her posture. He couldn't help his face from dropping, and he shook slightly.  
"...Why?" A barely audible whisper escaped his parted lips.  
"I know I promised... But I didn't realise I owed rent this month and if I don't go in we could lose the house. We'll go another time, Timothy. I promise we will." He scowled behind her back as she left. She always promised. But she never went through on those promises, there were examples - too many to count.

'"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. It's only for a few weeks, I promise. You'll be home before you know it."'

Lies. She knew he would be there for as long as he was, and that's what made him so furious. She always lies. He stormed out the door, wiping away tears and breathing out his hatred in clouds of autumn mist. Desperately, he headed for the people who would always accept him, and tell nothing but the truth. He didn't even have to knock before the front door was opened and he was pulled inside.  
"Tim? Weren't you supposed to go out with your mom?" It was only when Brian saw his face in the warm light of the passage that he realised, "Are you okay?! What happened?!" The blond studied his friends' tear stained cheeks and red eyes, then his lips for an answer. Anything that could tell him what happened.  
"...Nothing. I'm just being stupid." He sniffled, rubbing his running nose on his top, "Is it okay if I stay for tea?"   
Brian's concern gave way to his signature smirk, "'course dude, you know my mom always puts out extra 'case you show up... You're like her second son." He strolled into the living room with his friend at his heels, waving at his mother.  
"Hey, Tim. How are you?" The lady asked, smiling softly at the boy. He shrugged and sat at the round table to the far end. He always enjoyed coming here, the walls were a lively shade of orange, and the floor was always neatly polished. Mrs Haight looked to where the boys were sat, and tutted, "Sorry for the state of the place, Tim. Brian was left alone for ten minutes and somehow he managed to get paint everywhere. You know what he's like." He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.   
"Wasn't me, was the cat." Mrs Haight sighed, and looked up from the pot on the stove.  
"Use full sentences, you're not two anymore." Brian rolled his eyes playfully and his mother came over with the food, and jokingly hit him over the back of the head. She began to spoon out a generous helping of chicken broth, making a trip back through to the kitchen to grab some freshly baked bread rolls and butter. He always enjoyed coming here, there was always a home cooked meal waiting for him, and not some cheap microwave product that hardly filled him. He took in the rich smells and a familiar warmth filled him, taking over his brain and easing him to relax. Timidly, he remained static in the chair, until Mrs Haight's voice was heard again. "Help yourself dear, do you want a drink?" The boy nodded shyly, clearing his throat,  
"A glass of water please?" He mumbled, slowly becoming subdued to the homely feel that encased him.

His house was nothing like this one, for his house was the product of a broken dream that once was an escape. There were half painted rooms, and too many boxes to count. White sheets were strewn about like careless ghosts, and a thick layer of dust and unhappy memories covered all you could see from the rooms with blown out light bulbs. The home consisted of a peculiar mother and son and a father that was only apparent in undisclosed boxes of useless junk. That described the man this boy never knew quite well...

Tim took a sip from his cup, and filled his bowl with the broth, grabbing a piece of bread to accompany it. For the first time in the day, he took a bite of food with a full heart. His chest may have been full of tormenting emotion, but it was better than being empty. That was his thinking anyway. The texture and flavour of this home cooked meal made his senses erupt into euphoria, long overdue from cheap, undercooked food. "Hm. Isn't your birthday soon, dear?" The woman behind the stove mused to Tim, who shrugged, begrudging to the fact that he had to grow up. "Oh, come now, Tim! Thirteen years is a big milestone for you."

He was surprised he wasn't dead yet. Blunt but true. 'Hey, it's imperative with that thing around.' He thought to himself, and gulped instinctively, eyes traveling. He didn't want this at all, but who would? Who would wish to see such torturous things? Who would want to see things that seem so real, that make you wish you were dead? What sane person would want to wake up with no memory of anything in the middle of the damn woods? What child should have to wish their mother could just forget about them? He didn't want another birthday.

He shook the thoughts from his head and smiled.   
"Yeah! I'm looking forward to it."


End file.
